"Run... I have to get away now! If I can make it back to the Dungeon, I might still have a chance!"
No. 945 turned to flee, but before he had taken more than a few steps, an arrow formed from wind tore through the air, pierced his calf with unerring precision, and pinned him to the ground.
He let out an agonized scream and fell flat, struggling to get back up, but Luna had already descended slowly in front of him, bow in hand, blocking his escape.
Olivia also descended from the air beside him. She crouched down and asked curiously:
"I'm very interested in those fascinating tricks of yours. Where did they come from? If you tell me the truth, I might consider sparing you some suffering."
No. 945 lay on the ground, panting heavily, a flicker of hope for survival crossing his eyes.
Since those people had already written him off as expendable, he figured he could abandon them just as easily.
He opened his mouth, about to reveal the secrets he knew, but just before he could speak, his body suddenly began to age at a terrifying speed.
His skin visibly shriveled and wrinkled, his muscles wasted away, and his hair fell out. He looked like a dead tree drained of every drop of moisture.
"Help..."
He let out one final, short, hoarse cry. Then his skeleton collapsed into a heap of grayish-white bones, leaving him utterly lifeless.
"It seems things are even more complicated than I thought."
Olivia slowly stood up and stared at the pile of bones on the ground, remaining silent for a long time.
Luna lowered her bow as well, her gaze grave as she looked at the remains.
The two exchanged a glance, each seeing the same thought in the other's